


Human

by peachspace



Category: Septiplier - Fandom, jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: But I think it's pretty interesting and I might continue it eventually, Google Mark, M/M, Probably won't finish this, Ryan is a bot builder!, Septiplier would happen waaay later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 16:17:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10834830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachspace/pseuds/peachspace
Summary: A box of bolts, a sloppy blueprint, and a small blue personality chip that buzzes slightly in the palm of his hand....Ryan has built bots all his life, but he's never built one like this.





	Human

**Author's Note:**

> Yo okay I wrote this forever ago and I think it's decent so here, have this little plot bunny.

A box of bolts, a sloppy blueprint, and a small blue personality chip that buzzes slightly in the palm of his hand....

Ryan's usual supplies rest at his feet, dimly illuminated by sunlight filtering in through his apartment window. He begins unpacking his tools - a routine reeking of normalcy, but he can't help but feel something's a little off. 

The plans for another service-bot arrived only this morning from CyTech, one of the more successful and renowned bot building companies, containing the same parts and instructions he receives every month.

Strangely enough, Ryan hasn’t ever actually spoken to anyone that works at the company, he just builds the robots and sends them back to the company on whatever date is stamped on the box. If he gets them all completed on time there will be an envelope waiting for him in his mailbox at the end of the month, heavy with crisp dollar bills that are more than enough to allow him a comfortable lifestyle. 

Except this package has no return date, and the chip inside it hums slightly - unlike the small lifeless chips of plastic that he's grown used to. 

Ryan has been doing this for what feels like forever, though, it's his job. He's most likely just growing a little restless, right? Surely after making hundreds of service bots by hand, day after day, month after month, year after year, this one won't be any different. 

These scraps of metal and wire will be formed into a fully functioning robot given a little time and energy, and Ryan will eventually ship it off for someone to buy and more or less enslave, damning it to a life of chores and mindless servitude - but programs can't feel, so there's nothing morally wrong with it, right? Nothing new. 

So why does this chip in particular, as it buzzes in his hand, make him feel like he's clutching a living being? And more importantly, why does that thought make him so sick with guilt? 

He pushes down the intrusive thoughts and grabs his tool box. 

——— 

Once Ryan finishes tugging the clothes over the lifeless bot in front of him, He steps back and admires his work. 

Simple clothing as usual, black jeans and a dark blue shirt with "Google” printed across in large swirling white letters, with a smaller and blockier “IRL" scribbled beneath. 

Google IRL. 

Ryan laughs to himself and shakes his head. 

The bots he's delivered usually have weird assigned names, but this one has to take the cake for lack of creativity.  
It's apparently meant to have access to the Google search engine on top of being able to complete household chores and bend to its owner's will. A perfect program, made to serve.  
Despite this, Ryan isn't sure how a creature with so much information in it's hands could remain docile and submissive. 

Deciding to test it out, he clears his throat and utters the two words programmed to bring this disturbingly human-like being to life. 

“Okay, Google.” 

And just like that, the thing in front of him is no longer a pile of scrap metal, it is a fully functioning machine. Google’s eyes flicker open, a spiral of light trailing through the dark glassy brown like sunlight cutting through murky pond water. Yes, a robot’s eyes, such an easy way to distinguish them from a human. 

Everything seems to be working in order as the bot in front of him straightens and rolls it’s shoulders, a soft whirring sound filling the room as it quickly boots up.  
Another job well done. Ryan grins, a feeling of warmth spreading through his gut as he surveys his work proudly.

And then something strange happens - the bot grins back.

It’s a little awkward and unsure, as if the machine isn’t quite sure exactly how to smile. 

The action would be almost endearing if Ryan didn't know how completely and utterly wrong it was. The bot should be able to recognize Ryan's facial features, but to mimic them? No, that was a whole new level of intelligence that shouldn't even be possible with the basic programming that Google contained. 

And while Ryan is busy choking on his own tongue, the bot speaks. 

"I apologize, you look upset. Can I do anything to correct my mistake? My primary objective is to serve." 

Well that's a bit more normal. Ryan shakes his head, eyes still comically large, as he pulls together a response. 

"N-no, no need, you threw me off, is all." Ryan replies in a voice that he hopes doesn't tremble too terribly. 

Google's expression brightens fractionally, and Ryan feels that slightly sick feeling in his gut again. Why does he look like he's experiencing human emotions? That's not supposed to happen, their technology is nowhere near advanced enough for that to happen. 

The bot takes a few menacing steps forwards and presses into Ryan's space, leaning forwards until it’s nose is almost brushing against Ryan’s, who holds stock still against the ministrations. 

It's kind of cute, really, the curiosity. 

Except for the fact that this shouldn't be happening. 

It's just a glitch, no need to panic. Just a glitch. 

Google continues to lean forwards, squinting and pressing his lips into a flat line as he surveys Ryan.  
"What's your name?" 

Ryan doesn't even consider not answering. "Ryan." He squeaks, not bothering to be embarrassed by the unmanly noise. 

Google breaks into that disturbing grin then, sticking his hand out - presumably for shaking? - and looking at the other expectantly. "Hello Ryan, My name is Mark. I will be your new assistant." 

——— 

It takes a while to get used to, but Ryan quickly finds that he enjoys having someone - something to help him with the chores around his apartment. 

He at first figured that CyTech would send him an email or something asking for their bot back, and he would just let Mark - Google help him with the small things he doesn't exactly feel like doing alone for a while.

But CyTech hasn't called and Ryan is getting dangerously attached to his assistant. Sure, Google is just a bot, metal through and through, but it has a sense of curiosity and a hunger to learn that often leads to many silly questions and long-winded explanations from Ryan. 

It’s a little like what Ryan imagines having a little brother would be, incessant queries that end up leaving the two more confused than they started. 

For example, Google often likes to ask about Ryan himself. He has the entire internet at his disposal so apparently the only really interesting thing to him is Ryan, a mystery to the bot that he’s all to eager to solve.

And, of course, today is no different. Ryan is just eating lunch when Google approaches him, looking utterly perplexed. 

“Ryan, what’s your job?”

“What?” Ryan says, nearly choking on his corndog as he looks up at Mark. The bot is standing with a hand on a chair across the table from him, clearly waiting for permission from Ryan to sit, which Ryan gives through a brief nod. 

Mark sinks robotically onto the wooden stool before replying “Your job — What do you do for a living? I’ve observed you only leave home for groceries and other necessities, I never see you do much else besides browse the web, which I’m fairly sure doesn’t offer many career opportunities. Despite this, you live very comfortably. What’s the reason for this?"

“What the hell? I most definitely do not need to be judged on my lifestyle by my fucking Service Bot… Whatever, if you must know, I’m an engineer. I build things. Built you, in fact.” Ryan explains almost proudly, chest puffed slightly.

“An engineer? And you do it from the house? That does make sense.”

Then, a long pause, as if Mark is considering something. 

“What about me? Do you think I could someday be an… an engineer?” 

Ryan chokes.

“Dude, what? Of course not, you’re a bot! Bots don’t have jobs besides answering questions and doing chores. You don’t even have to provide for yourself, you live with me and you don’t need to eat!” 

Mark’s expression seems to fall a little at that, and Ryan immediately feels guilty. 

“Why is that, though? I’m perfectly capable of doing whatever it is you do. You put things together, so can I. It’s not hard, and I have ways of learning — once I teach myself something, I don’t forget it. Why couldn’t I? Give me a real answer.” 

Mark leans forwards as he speaks, eyes wide and imploring. Not robotic or cold as they should be. Mark confused Ryan. 

“You can’t, Mark, you’re not human. You’re a program, and a program can’t… Drop it, okay?”

“I still don’t understand. Why does it matter what I am? You speak to me like I’m the same as you. What’s the difference between us?” the bot prompts, leaning forwards in his seat with blazing eyes. 

Ryan doesn’t reply, and Mark seems to calm a bit, thinking he might’ve stumped the other — proved him wrong, so he repeats the question. 

“What’s the difference between a human and a robot?” 

Again, a period of silence, and suddenly Ryan’s mind is bombarded by all those questions he’s pushed down over the years. He's always wondered why a robot, if sentient, should be treated as a second hand citizen?

They're sort of alive. Alive enough to be aware of the fact that they're treated differently than others. Isn’t that wrong? 

But, of course, he doesn't tell Mark that. He has to seem confident in his answer. 

"Everything, Mark. I-I mean, just look at us. You can't form relationships, you can't have friends. You can't even eat! That's like, the most human thing someone can do!" 

Mark frowns for a long time before he finally nods, slinking away from Ryan, presumably to do dishes or something of the sort. 

Well that's just unfair. Everything Ryan said was true, he can't help it if Mark doesn't like it. 

So why does he feel so guilty?


End file.
